Ready
by DoubleMMia
Summary: '…Because she's scared and she hates the responsibility on her shoulders and she's not sure if she can handle it anymore. For Maker's sake! She's just a girl! And yet…Wynne disagrees…' Slight OBVIOUS hints of Cousland/Leliana


'…_because she's scared and she hates the responsibility on her shoulders and she's not sure if she can handle it anymore. For Maker's sake! She's just a girl! And yet…Wynne disagrees…' Slight (OBVIOUS) hints of Cousland/Leliana_

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Guinevere hasn't cried since her mother told her to clean her room when she was ten years old. She didn't cry when her parents died. She didn't cry when she was made a Grey Warden and she certainly didn't cry when she was appointed (without any warning) to be the Grey Warden that would lead the rest of Ferelden into battle to face the Blight.

That, however, doesn't mean she didn't want to cry at those times.

And for that reason she finds herself further away from camp (away being hidden by trees in a clearing) where Shale can't hear her, where Sten can't observe her with his dark, coal-like eyes and where Morrigan can't sneer at her weakness…

_Fear_.

That was what it was and Guinevere was more than ashamed to say she stunk of the pathetic feeling; it made her heart ache and throb unpleasantly which affected her during battles and affected her generally towards people.

All those memories, all the difficulties, the decisions she had to make with everything and everyone depending on her…They had always been there, in the back of her mind in a desperate attempt to try to push them away even if she knew that was going to be an impossible feat to do.

Alistair was a nice man (funny too but Guinevere wouldn't ever admit it to the ex-templar) but he sucked when it came to comforting so Guinevere was glad that she hadn't ever confided in Alistair about her past and her feelings of dread that was the Blight.

That being said, she hadn't told anyone about her past and her feelings about the Blight that she had to try and conquer without trying to get killed otherwise it all fell down onto Alistair and despite what she said…She didn't want to put all the responsibility on Alistair.

Damn typical of her. Not wanting the responsibility, but not wanting to put it on anyone else.

The tears that trailed down her face made her look even more wimpier than she already felt she was, this thought of her being wimpy and weak making the young Grey Warden stand up and toss the sword strapped to her waist at the nearest tree - making the tree shake and for leaves to spray everywhere around her in what looked like a hurricane.

"Damn it." Guinevere growled under her breath, slumping back down onto her own respected log with head in her hands, breathing heavy and her eyes wide to try and block everything out apart from her feet.

She felt angry all of a sudden, her anger mostly being directed at the dead Grey Warden known as Duncan who had robbed her from her life and had thrown her headfirst into this new life that held almost no chance of surviving or everyone dying on you due to poor leadership.

How dare he take her away from what happened at her home? How dare he save her life when so many others could have been saved? How dare he do this to her! She never wanted to be a Grey Warden just as much she never wanted to be a simple noble woman who would one day take over her father's place yet she'd rather take that than his horrible burden that was slowly dragging her down.

But she had to do this. Either do this or die. The death with her family or the sure death she was going to receive before she defeated the Blight.

Silence for a while. That was all she needed. Silence. Pure…Simple…Silence. Nobody there to help her. Nobody there at all. Solitude Just by herself, just the way she liked it…

It was a complete utter lie…Other than that it was also the only damn thing that kept her going under such strain.

**- -**

The senior enchanter and the mabari war hound stood close to each other; both observing the clearing where their Grey Warden leader (and mistress in Sparky's view) resided (and had been residing) for the past hour.

Alistair arched a curious eyebrow at them, a slight smirking appearing on his face. "Well…I never thought we had a voyeur in our camp but it seems that you just can't keep your eyes off our fearless leader!"

Wynne scowled at the young templar. "It is unusual for her to be gone such a long time…I am worried."

Alistair shrugged in the direction of the clearing, glancing at Wynne before tearing his gaze away to stare at the oddly-silent bard (who was also staring out at the clearing) with a look that obviously said his feelings on the matter.

"Why don't you talk to Leliana? Maybe she'll know what's going on with Guinevere?"

Wynne shook her head however she also let her gaze fall onto the redheaded bard for a moment, just to turn her eyes back onto the clearing. "No…I think I'll go see if she's alright myself."

"Well alright…" Alistair shot Wynne a grim smile. "Tell her I said I hope she's okay then, alright?"

"You can tell that yourself when I bring her back, can't you Alistair?" And then Wynne smirked the smirk that Alistair hated.

Alistair grumbled and poked his tongue out at the senior enchanter's back. He really hated Wynne's knowing smirk.

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Footsteps. Quiet yet louder enough for the young Cousland to know someone is heading in her general direction without a care in the world - obviously not if they got caught anyway.

It wasn't Leliana, which was a relief in itself. She wouldn't want Leliana to know that she had been crying over something stupid and she already hated knowing that Leliana knew how much younger she was compared to her (in the mind anyway) and always went out of her way to protect her in battles when she needn't have to.

Altogether…It was really frustrating.

Oh for _Maker's sake_…Please don't let it be _Alistair_…

She loves Alistair, he's her best friend and she loves his company but she really didn't want anyone invading her personal space at the moment - especially someone who knew how to be serious at times except also knowing how to make Guinevere feel like the biggest idiot ever without meaning to.

Ugh. Though it could be someone worse…Someone like…Oghren for example. She could totally imagine how that would work out. Oghren would probably take one look at her, offer her a bit of his ale and the faint while trying to make a witty joke that she would never find humorous in decades.

Then she'd probably feel more depressed at Oghren's failure when it came to humour and how he managed to keep himself up right she'd _never_ know…

"Ah, there you are."

The young Grey Warden stiffened awkwardly, her back muscles tensing so much that she wouldn't be surprised if Wynne could see so through her chain mail (which she wore whenever she returned to camp to be rid of the sweaty armour that she had to lug around with her when she walked).

"I wondered where you had gotten to." The senior enchanter spoke softly, the knowing concern in her voice making the Cousland sink her head into her hands to try to hide her face.

"I just wanted to be alone for a while." Guinevere answers back, cursing silently at how her words tell-tale the fact that she has been crying for a while now and the fact that Wynne of all people stumbled upon her.

"I can see why."

To be caught crying by Wynne of all people…She thought being caught by Leliana was terrible but Wynne? Wynne reminded the Cousland of her mother, this logically meaning that daughters always strived to impress their mothers, to never let them down, to never see them disappointed…

That was what Guinevere had strived for when she younger. Ways to impress her mother. To never let her mother see weakness.

"I'm fine. Just needed some air." Guinevere tried to get rid of the subject, jolting upwards from her sitting position when Wynne lay a hand on her shoulder.

"And where are you going young lady in such a state?"

Guinevere groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose in pent up frustration that had been boiling at the bottom of her stomach before finally making its way up to her forehead in an unmistakable headache.

She really likes Wynne, she swears she does but by Maker! How can she read through her like a book almost all the time? That and the old woman is always nagging at her like she's some sort of three year old who just kicked a kitten or something.

"To go see Leliana…" She isn't but maybe that will make Wynne back off a little if she knows she's going to speak to her fellow redhead. "She's always a laugh to talk to!" The redheaded Warden then flashes Wynne her cockiest smirk because that is how she really is.

No joke. Leliana's been commenting on how cocky she is around people and how people can get offended by her flirtatious and somewhat sultry attitude.

Pft. Leliana is such a hypocrite seeming as _she_ doesn't seem to mind.

"Sit down."

Guinevere pouts out her lower lip in a way that screams 'uh…no' but does what Wynne asks of her anyway with a grunt.

She avoids eye contact and instead finds a fascination with her studded leather boots that at the moment looked even more ragged than they had been before since the Cousland was at the camp. Had Sparky been chewing on them again?

"Is something or is someone bothering you?" Wynne speaks up with complete false innocence that Guinevere can see through almost immediately.

Wynne knows that isn't what is bothering her but of course…She wouldn't say anything until Guinevere herself came out with it.

"I'm…" The younger Cousland scratches the skin below her emerald hues, distracting herself partly whilst also attempting to get rid of the wetness that resided there without looking too suspicious.

"I'm just not ready for all this!" The Grey Warden leader manages to let the growl pass her lips, the fear inside of her quickly turning into rage that makes the Warden curl her gloved hands into fists.

"I didn't ask to be a Grey Warden! I didn't even want to be a Grey Warden!" And she knows she must look like the most immature child in the world right now to Wynne, then again…Who cares?!

The young Cousland stood up from her place beside Wynne, glaring angrily down at her reflection that looked up at her from the water's surface.

"And now I'm being depended on so much! By so many people!" She continued to rant, feeling the energy her anger had given her start to pulse even more the vigorous words that were being formed by her tongue.

"How can…How can anyone stand that?!" She had whirled back around to look at the senior enchanter with wide, confused eyes that seemed to plead earnestly for comfort. For someone who would…Who would- Argh she didn't even know what she wanted! She just…She just hated feeling like this!

"How is it even possible to feel that? All the time?!" Guinevere slumped slightly so that she was on her knees in front of the old enchanter, forehead covered in embarrassed (the prize of her most likely foolish outburst) sweat.

And then. Suddenly. A hand that was delicate yet strong pressed tightly on her shoulders, pale digits curling around the fabric and the linked chains of her armour that awoke Guinevere from her slight gaze.

However, she still did not look up.

"You'll be alright." Wynne spoke with a kind smile, the fingers that had been digging into the younger Cousland's shoulder releasing themselves from the chains and instead brushing damp red curls away from the Warden's forehead.

"W-what?" The younger Warden can't help it; that is by far the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard come out of Wynne's wise mouth.

'_How is that supposed to help me? Maker, maybe I really should go speak to Alistair about this…'_

"That is what you wanted to hear, is it not?" Wynne has also stood, her intelligent hues crinkling slightly into what appeared to be a sly smile (though it was rather hard to tell without looking at Wynne's lips) which did nothing but make Guinevere's cheeks go sinfully red.

"W-well. Yeah. 'Course I did but-" Wynne looked at her assertively, shutting Guinevere's rambling up at such a look that the enchanter always seemed to throw at her whenever she wants to prove a point.

"You are a young woman now Guinevere though you may not believe it." Wynne chuckled slightly at her own sentence - leading more confusion to overtake the Cousland's mind. "My…You remind me of myself when I was your age."

Despite her previous ranting, her moody thoughts of how her life was doomed and many other things that right now seemed pointless; Guinevere laughed at Wynne's speech.

"Yes, you probably find that hard to believe I'm sure. _An old woman being young and beautiful like myself? _Outrageous!" Wynne continued to chuckle, the chuckle bringing out a smirk and even more laughter from Guinevere.

The laughter from herself brought another red print across her cheeks in more awkwardness than Guinevere thought she could handle.

"But it is true." Wynne continued, her words making the younger Cousland become even more stiffer than she had been before when Wynne had been speaking to her. "I used to resent myself being a mage ever since I became a teenager. And my, those years still stick into my mind like mud."

Guinevere arched a fine eyebrow; hoping to emphasise that she just couldn't conjure up seeing Wynne being a moody youth into her mind with a suave smirk that seemed to fit her emphasis. Or so she hoped.

"It did happen young lady and keep looking at me like that then you'll just have to sleep on the other side of the camp with that atrocious-smelling canine of yours." Wynne cut through the young Cousland's smirk, her own lips lifting upwards subtly at the stunned look that had appeared on the younger Warden's features.

"Now…Let me start again." Wynne sat back down onto the log that Guinevere had been resting on a few moments ago, her hands folded into her lap. "I regretted everything about my life, I yelled, screamed and cursed everyone to the Fade and back until I finally lost my voice for almost two weeks."

'_Would you mind losing your voice now?'_

Ah well. She knew she was pretty much a sarcastic, flirtatious fool (Morrigan had reminded her of this quite a few times) but that didn't mean she had the right to ignore Wynne when she was trying to help her get over her belly-aching of carrying such a big burden as saving Ferelden from the Blight.

So Guinevere sat next to the enchanter, chin resting in her hands as she intently listened to her somewhat mentor.

"However. No matter how long I screamed, no matter how long I cried, no matter how long I cursed half of Thedas…It didn't change the truth that was there. And that was the fact that I was a mage."

Guinevere swallowed deeply at that, her emerald eyes glancing up to see that Wynne was staring down at her with something that she had seen before in her mother - the familiarity making her heart beat fast.

_Pride_.

But why? She hadn't done anything particularly great without falling apart almost immediately afterwards…In private of course.

"And no matter how long _you_ scream, no matter how long _you_ cry, no matter how long _you_ curse the half of Thedas…It does not change the fact that you are a Grey Warden and it does certainly not change the fact that you are the one guiding us to defeat the Blight." Wynne spoke to her softly with that same familiarity in her tone, that itself making Guinevere speechless because this is exactly what she hadn't expected to happen.

For someone to tell her the cold, hard truth without really caring how she reacted or anything because what was the point of telling soft lies when the truth was that she was the only person (along with Alistair, if you could count Alistair that is) who could stop the Blight now.

"W-why do you think I can do this? I mean, just look at me right now. Feeling sorry for myself when it hasn't been great for you either. That's…That's just so selfish of me and I-"

"I always imagined my daughter to be someone like you."

"Say what?" Guinevere found herself spluttering, truly surprised at what the enchanter had just said. "Y-you had a daughter? I thought you said to Alistair that you had a son…"

"I believe it is able for women to have more than one child." Wynne laughed slightly, a hand once more stroking away the red tresses that seemed to love to stick to Guinevere's flushed face. "But as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted once again - you really must stop doing that child, it is a rather irritating habit you've picked up on…-"

"Sorry Wynne." Guinevere interrupted, feeling her lips tighten into a sultry smirk that she couldn't resist but use whenever she felt like teasing.

"Now _really_, but yes…I believe that you would be like my daughter when she was older. Stubborn, cocky, flirtatious and a very smooth, sweet-talker. And also someone who puts everyone's burdens on her own shoulders."

At this, Guinevere rolled her eyes. "That isn't even close to what's bothering me. Everyone just expects so much of me. So what if I'm a Grey Warden? Doesn't mean I'm ready to be one. As I said before."

"You don't think you're ready to be a Grey Warden?" Guinevere tilted her head to the side at Wynne's amused expression. "Is anyone ready for these sort of things?"

"Well…I guess not but-"

"You're never going to be ready for these sort of things Guinevere and to anyone who says they are ready are either fools or long for bravado that attracts attention." And there Wynne is again, stroking the hair out from her eyes and comforting her with harsh truthful words that make a shiver go down her back.

'_Rule number one when travelling to defeat a Blight. Always have Wynne or someone very much like her with you.'_

Smiling slightly at her own thought, Guinevere nodded towards the senior enchanter to tell Wynne that she was listening (for once) and quite intently at that.

"And if it is any reassurance…" Wynne spoke up once again, eyes gleaming with gratification that made the young Cousland's heart swell in such a way when her father patted her head and said something like: _'You did well, pup.'_

"If I did not think you were ready I wouldn't be following you right now." Then Wynne's hand once more came up towards her though this time not to remove her long hair away from her face but to instead pat her head with that knowing smile on her face.

"Always know that I am proud of you…" Wynne's expression then changed into one of complete motherly frustration. "Even though you can be quite an annoyance when you try hard enough…Even Leliana finds you… trying sometimes."

"Really?" Guinevere feigned shock before letting a full-blown smirk of complete mischievousness take over her lips.

"Ah you do not fool me child. I see the way you try to impress her. Another thing you don't think you're ready to do, hm?" Wynne laughed, glancing over her shoulder to stare at the camp where the rest of their companions lay in wait.

"Pft." The young Warden stuck out her tongue and folded her arms - ignoring the fact that she was feeling all hot again thanks to the change of subject. "I don't try to impress anyone!"

"Oh is that so? You have kept that flower in your pocket for a while now and I was wondering myself when you was going to…Present it to Leliana."

"Ugh! I just like flowers okay!? Who in Maker's name said I was going to give it to Leliana?!"

"Oh…I _apologize_…"

"Ughh…That's what I get for travelling with old people who act wise when really they're just plain and simply…_evil_."

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**I'm not quite sure when this little encounter between Wynne and my Warden actually happens. Maybe after she recruits Wynne and then has to decide the fate of the Dalish Elves and the Werewolves. You can decide. **


End file.
